From a look at the uniforms worn by those competitors, the quadrennial cold weather jamboree is intended to evoke a sense of wonder, and remind us of how much diversity remains in a supposedly shrunken, "globalised" world.

To be blunt: the outfits for the 2014 event, due to start next week in Sochi, Russia, are so gloriously gaudy, so imaginatively over-the-top, that they bring to mind Eurovision rather than the comparatively sombre, straining matter of going faster, higher or stronger for longer in and on snow and ice.

And don't think that we are going all Borat here in our appreciation of sartorial weirdness – this fashion observation is not restricted to the garb of obscure eastern European oligarchies or 10-person principalities.

Let's take the West's most culturally Western point, for example: America. The US's uniforms are designed by Ralph Lauren. I don't favour Ralph's work, so I'll disqualify myself from venturing an opinion.

I'll leave that to Madison's Badger Herald: "(The US uniforms) are ugly, to say the least. Navy sweaters covered in knitted American flags and Olympics memorabilia — these sweaters look like something that could be found in the back corner of some random thrift shop in the middle of Iowa or worn by hipsters 30 years from now in an 'ironic' way."

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They go on to say the US gear is "unattractive and boring at the same time".

It's not just the heartland experiencing heartburn looking at these garments. England's Independent describes them as "uniquely hideous".

The infamous Team USA sweaters. Picture: Ralph Lauren

The beauty (in the eye of this beholder) of fashion, travel, and the Olympics, is otherness, and being reminded of it.

Many people love the preppy lines of Ralph, and many will probably adore the busily kitschy 2014 US uniforms.

But who will adore the ragged new wave op-art suits being worn by Norway's waggish curling team? If a picture tells a thousand words, 999 of those used to describe this radical sweep-wear would be incredulous adjectives. Modern audiences might need only: "OMG" and "WTF". These natty outfits feature razor tooth blue, white, and mostly red lines, fit to induce conjunctivitis in the least hungover eye, and fits in anyone else.

The last folk to don such attire were late '70s guitar bands, one-hit wonders who spent their entire advance sending old-school tailors insane. Look at these lines too long and you begin to hallucinate, which is obviously the point – these devious distractions are obviously a secret weapon designed to put off competitors. Of course the Norwegians must avoid looking at their own outfits. Their solution, I believe, will be to accessorise with wrap-around shades. This eyewear, last cool in 1984, will work like Magic Eye pics, rendering their suit lines disorienting to opponents, into orderly diagrams for the canny Norwegians. They are true professionals, going the extra yard, embracing ridicule, in their quest for Olympic gold.

The brashly kaleidoscopic uniforms to be worn by volunteers and staff in Sochi will ensure that they don't need to resort to fluoro tradie safety vests. London's Telegraph noted that "the colours are similar to those that appear on the rainbow flag that symbolises the gay pride movement", a bitter irony given Russia's anti-gay stances of recent times.

Sochi's organisers seemingly took the design for Germany's bravely psychedelic team outfit, went the full patchwork quilt, added some complex textures inspired by spray-painted wire mesh, then had a failure of nerve, covering up random swathes of fabric with a neutral UN blue. They were apparently attempting to represent "the different regions of Russia" with this multi-textured chaos.

The Czechs look like they have blinged-up a white hip-hop hoodie, adding gold lettering and love-heart motifs to their tracksuit tops, and replacing the hood with a practical, but incongruous grey "reindeer" fur cap, complete with drooping ear covers.

The lone Mexican skiier, 55-year-old Prince Hubertus von Hohenlohe, will compete at his sixth Games in a mariachi outfit. This should be no surprise from a man who promoted recycling with his official racing gear in 2010. He also performs as a pop singer under the title Royal Disaster.

The Canadian sweaters, like the Americans', appear to have been knitted by elderly relatives of Canuck representatives. Dull, unimaginative ones, who often dozed off during the process. Sleepy grandma was not just stuck for ideas, but had her budget constrained.

It is a strange event where the Germans look like the most exciting attendees. The women's outfits start and finish in pinky red and go through the rainbow in between. I actually like these colourful combos, but the only place to wear them outside the Athlete's Village would be a chemically sanctioned retro rave.

Russia has played it relatively low-key after providing the greatest eyesores of the 2012 London summer Olympics. But the chintzy soul of their designers is revealed by their gloves – in which every finger is a different colour.

Japan's outfits are much simpler than the amazing technicolour dreamcoats of many rivals, but in going orange (top) and blue (bottom) they risk being identified as… anything but Japan.

And what about us?

Australia has a proud tradition of gaudiness. Witness how we like to deport ourselves on our national day.

It is hard to pin down a theme. There is dizzying canary yellow, but off-white, and navy blue get a guernsey, literally. And Blundstones.

Vancouver-born millionaire and Australian moguls ace Dale Begg-Smith favoured a low-key off-white ski suit when competing in Vancouver, channelling the look of snowbound snipers in the cooler Bond films (and Ice Station Zebra).

But let's hope that the 2010 design for our cross country skier Ben Smith gets a reprise. In Vancouver, he looked like an extra from the remake of Tron, who had been dipped in green and gold.

It takes such bold leaps of the imagination to compete at the Winter Olympics, at least in the fashion stakes. Only the ambitiously vibrant need apply.